Le Morte d’Sheldon

I have sad news. We slaughtered Sheldon. He had become violent and was a danger to everyone he came into contact with. With startling unpredictability, he would decide to ram people, often as hard and as fast as he could. We lived in fear that he would get out and go after a well-meaning neighbor or a child. One hit from him, an animal who runs into trees at full speed for fun, would shatter any adult’s leg and would have killed a child. I’m not sure if he would have gone after a child but he certainly went after adults. Despite that, it wasn’t an easy decision. He was more or less, a pet.

We did it in the most humane way possible. I wasn’t present for his death however, being practical, we did not waste any of his carcass. Every thing will be food for humans or dogs. Too macabre? Welcome to my life. Raising livestock is not for wussies. I’m kind of a wussy.

The most tragic part of this tale is we are the horrible warning. This didn’t have to happen. As it turns out, bottle fed rams, which are not raised in herds, become aggressive. They lose the concept of predator and prey. The treat humans like members of the herd and being egotistical males, they know that all of the herd is there to serve their needs. All the petting, all the hand-feeding, all the early games of matador between Chaos and Sheldon only reinforced the behavior.

Might we try sheep again in the future? Absolutely. Next time, I’m buying from a good breeder who understands what we want to do and sells us an appropriate animal. (To be honest, I think the person I bought him from found out that he was most likely going to become aggressive and sold him for that reason.) Next time, I’m not letting the livestock in the house. No good comes of it. Ever. You would think I would know that but sometimes, I have to make mistakes to learn. Sadly, for Sheldon, he was the victim of my mistake.